


Recollections

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Past Abuse, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9147646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A series of snapshots/drabbles for Shimadacest Week 2017. Some may be NSFW in nature.





	

From his balcony, the late-night sprawl of the city was particularly alluring; Gibraltar was not as special as Hanamura, at least not to a man as proud as Hanzo, but the rocky, brooding cliffs and dark oceans certainly reflect his mood; and the flashing lights of the nightlife would suit his brother.

It reminded him somehow of home, specifically the dark, smoky room with the high, tall ceilings and long business table, where they would drink together with clan members and business associates usually, Father stoic at the head of the table. Hanzo was a traditionalist, a longtime connoisseur of expensive sake (Genji chose it as his tipple of choice whenever he wanted to get his brother drunk). Genji himself preferred absinthe. He was always such a _state_ when he was intoxicated, a liability. Father had never wanted to believe it of his darling youngest son, and so the responsibility fell on Hanzo’s shoulders, time after time, to clear up his little brother’s messes.

Hanzo’s heart hurt to remember the young boy Genji was; the sweet, gap-toothed little boy with his mess of inky-black hair, who came crying to Hanzo whenever he received so much as a scrape on his knee, regardless of whether his infuriatingly responsible elder brother provided much comfort. Then again, he reminded himself, smiling at the memory – perhaps he did indulge Genji. Before his schedule became crushing, Hanzo spent his spare moments with his younger brother – teaching him to spar with katana blades, or accompanying Genji to his favourite place – the local arcade, which captivated him with its neon lights and pachinko bells. When Genji fussed and demanded, Hanzo had won for him a ridiculous Pachimari plush toy. It continued to be a favourite haunt of Genji’s well into his early adulthood, particularly when he needed a ‘respite’ from the clan and his duties. Much to Hanzo's chagrin.

Hanzo had also chaperoned Genji on various occasions to the Children's Day festivities in the village (flanked by bodyguards, naturally). Genji had always loved to watch the koi kites fly, and Hanzo felt a stinging pain lance through him at the memory of the red-streaked skies and bloodsoaked hallowed ground that was their last Children's Day spent together.

 _Did it sting, sweet sparrow?_ Hanzo wondered, resting his elbows on the balcony, staring out at the sprawling Gibraltar skyline.  _When my blade severed your limbs from your body?_

_Did it hurt, when you realized I wouldn't stop?_

"Taking the midnight air, brother?"

A voice sparked Hanzo from his reverie; the identity of the intruder was, of course, not difficult to guess - but it startled him all the same, and he whirled around to face Genji accusingly. His brother lingered in the doorway, sleek, white metallic frame bathed in moonlight. He was as sleek as a cat, unfurling like a shadow, the garish lights that had so unsettled Hanzo nowhere to be seen on his person. He knew from his most recent confrontation with Genji that his brother was likely twice as deadly now, fashioned into a perfect weapon of warfare. Hanzo found it difficult to hide his disgust at what had been done to him, even to save Genji's feelings.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" his brother remarked conversationally, gesturing to the view from Hanzo's balcony. "Almost as lovely as the sights from my bedroom in Nepal, anija. You really ought to visit me out there sometime. Do you know, I kept our painting on the wall all this time?"

Hanzo remained silent, gaze fixed on the twinkling lights on the balustrades by the ocean, but still listening to Genji's words. His voice had a vaguely robotic timbre to it now, possibly due to the remodeling of his jaw, but his voice was still sweet and breathy - the same voice that had charmed countless girls and boys into his bed back in Hanamura, what felt now like a lifetime ago.

"I used to fantasize," Genji admitted, "about leaving the clan. Together. We'd take up new names, elope, and get married." He braced himself with one metallic hand on Hanzo's shoulder, and followed his gaze reaching far beyond the cliffs, over the ocean. "It's foolish, no?"

"That would never have happened," Hanzo snapped back, inadvertently caught by the harshness of his own voice. He softened. "I - we never could have expected for it to work, Genji."

"I know that," the younger answered, without looking back at Hanzo. "Do you think I didn't tell myself that, nightly? If nothing else, you would never have agreed to leave the clan behind for me."

Hanzo was temporarily struck dumb; there is no bitterness or resentment to Genji's tone, but this truth seems almost cruel. It isn't that he wouldn't  _prefer_ to leave it all behind and to be with Genji; ever since he first allowed his feelings to rise toward the surface of his conscious thought, he'd entertained the idea, played with it almost obsessively. More than anything, he was plagued with a worrying desire to possess him that went beyond merely protective; he had always wanted the world to know that Genji was  _his._ He supposed he always would.

"I would not have been a good husband to you, Genji," said Hanzo stiffly, having finally mustered the words. "I was not meant for such. I would have been no better a husband than I am a brother."

"Your problem, Hanzo," Genji responded carefully, tone kind and measured; laying a cold metal hand on his brother's arm, "is that you've become so consumed with your burdens and your self-pity that you have become neglectful of me completely. I miss you." There was something truly vulnerable in his tone, almost unbearably so. Hanzo's hands found Genji's waist, the younger immediately clinging to it like a lifeline.

"Come to bed," murmured Genji, fingers clutching at the sleeve of Hanzo's robe before dropping it loosely from his grasp. "Please, Hanzo. It can be just like old times. Just like we used to be. Just - sleeping, together. It was a long flight." Hanzo sighed heavily, removing Genji's arms from around him. "Come, Genji." The yellow ribbon holding back his thick black locks fluttered in the wind, and Genji was entranced by how beautiful a sight it was.

"Stay with me, Hanzo, please," Genji muttered, almost feverish in his desperation, allowing Hanzo to lead him inside.

"I'm here, Genji," the other responded, firmly pushing Genji onto the mattress. His limbs hit the bed with a heavy thud, leaving him sprawled out on the Egyptian cotton sheets. Hanzo smiled indulgently, crawling over him, looming above Genji on all fours. When he lies down beside him, he pulls Genji against him, back against Hanzo's chest, his hands on the plating of Genji's stomach.

"Sleep, my little sparrow. I will be here when you wake up," he promised, sealing his words with a kiss to the synthetic skin covering the cross-stitch of scars on Genji's neck. 


End file.
